"I WROTE IT DOWN, I SWEAR!" Clare hollers at Chase. She's been searching for the girl's name in her journal with high hopes that she could disclose further suspicions yet Chase isn't even a bit eager to help her.

"I think it started with a C," she hastily turned the papers as her gaze slowly scanned each page, "I jotted it down years ago, Chase."

"It's been a month... Just give up already," he sighs as he slowly leveled his body with hers. The soul's physique floated aimlessly on mid-air.

"Plus," he continues, "you just woke up so eat then drink your pill."

"Chase, I dreamt of her. I dreamt of the girl!"

"That could be any girl. Now eat and drink," he points at her nightstand where a plate of ready-made food prepared by Riley was positioned.

Clare stopped tormenting her journal and she just stared — she stared with an angered gaze that pierced through the boy's holed forehead.

"You should be excited 'cause I found her," she furiously mumbled, "Why are you acting like this?"

Chase eyed her for a few seconds before he managed to ask, "Acting like what? Why are you even mad?"

"Because of you!" she threw the journal at the end of the bed where the boy was, "I want to help you. Why are you suddenly acting like this?"

"Just stop. I don't want you to get hurt."

Silence instantly filled the room. Chase just neared his body towards the ceiling —  his eyes studying her stature. She looks like she was about to explode from how red her face is. Clare's mad and Chase noticed but he's acting like he doesn't care.

"I'm not risking your health," the floating boy broke the awkward silence, "You almost died last time you said you wanted to help," the last words harshly left his lips.

Clare was on the verge of crying yet she once again grabbed the notebook that laid above her feet. As she opened it, the drawing of her and Chase bombarded her gaze and memories drifted through her thoughts.

"I wrote her name... I swear," the tears that slowly fell from her eyes were absorbed by the page, "It was the time you told me your mom had blonde hair."

Concern etched through Chase's eyes, "Where is it then?" regret reflects from his voice.

The girl closed the journal, "I dreamt of her, Chase. She was holding this notebook and there were bottles of alcohol, floating."

A worried look excessively draped Chase's facial expression even though he tried his best to hide it.

"Then she whispered someone's name and it starts with a C. I couldn't hear it properly... But she was whispering someone's name!" she shrieks as her hand unknowingly gripped the journal, shortly throwing it towards Chase.

"Okay, okay..." he hurriedly floats down as he sat in front of her, "A name that starts with a C and alcohol. Did you write anything about that?"

"I wrote it down..." she sniffles, "Chase, I swear."